Devla's Story  Part 1  The Beginning
by DAYtheELF
Summary: The story of my DragonLance 3.5 D&D character Devla as we go through the campaign beginning Spring 2011.  The story starts several years before the actual game begins.
1. Part 1  Chapter 1  Meet Devla

Chapter One

She'd had a rough time of it lately. Ever since that damned boar things had been getting more and more complicated. No, scratch that, ever since her father had taken on Pollux things had been complicated. It wasn't that she didn't like Pollux well enough, but it was a bit intimidating to be told that you are going to marry this certain person you do not really know - especially when you already have a boyfriend.

Life in Solace was generally quiet, so you had to find diversions wherever you could. Devla and the rest of the troupe of local children around her age had recently abandoned the "battlegrounds" around the crabapple trees to younger, newer warriors of the perpetual Crabapple Wars – they were nearly adults now and had more interesting things to occupy their time. For example, the old game of hide-and-go-seek had of late turned into hide-and-go-kiss. The massive trees in which the townsfolk suspended their homes, a relic from days long past when goblins used to often come raiding, also contained many romantic hidden nooks where one could steal a kiss or two without being seen.

She always thought herself very mature and knowledgeable about the world. She did have responsibilities, did she not? Ever since she could remember she had been helping her father take care their home, the tannery, and herself. And she knew what loss was. Until Pollux came, it had always been just her and her father. Her mother had died only six months after Devla had been born. She had been a stranger to Solace, the daughter of a traveling tinkerer and purveyor of needful things. The family's small caravan had been the first through since winter had ended, traveling in the cold, wet rains of Spring Dawning. The rumor was that it had been love at first sight between Sefla and the young tanner Davvel. When the tinkerers had moved on towards the plains they had left behind more than just odds-and-ends; the parting between Sefla and her family had been very bitter. That was the first and last time that the tinkerer family was seen in Devla's hometown.

The couple was very much in love and spent nearly all moments with each other, to the point of virtually removing themselves from the flow of town life. It was not long before dark murmurings started between the women of Solace. Sefla was different looking: she was small and delicate, with deep black hair that fell like a sheet of satin and pale, bright blue eyes. No one knew anything about her family or heritage. The way Davvel had fallen for her was so sudden and complete that it seemed almost sinister.

Sefla had gone missing while gathering herbs one day in early Spring Blossom, just over a year since arriving in Solace. A search near the edges of the swamps turned up some tattered clothing that was similar to the dress she'd been wearing, but no body had been ever found. It was assumed that she'd been attacked by some wild animal like a wolf or bear, and all the women shook their heads and clicked their tongues saying that this was why decent women did not go wandering off by themselves.

Davvel was left alone with the baby. The loss was devastating to him. He had once been a gregarious fellow and, before Sefla, he had been known to frequently drop in at the tavern for a brew or two with the rest of the men. Even when he'd been with Sefla he would be talkative with his customers at the tannery. After her death, Davvel withdrew from the social life of Solace completely. He worked and dealt with people because he must, and no one ever saw a smile on his lips.

It's not to say that he became a cold man entirely, at least not where Devla was concerned, but he was never able to look at her without being reminded of what he'd lost. A sadness always lingered in his eyes. He was a dutiful and supportive father, but their home life was a quiet one. Although around town Devla was known for being very talkative, energetic, and outgoing, at home silence ruled.

Devla had very little of her mother to hold on to. She did not even look like her. She had her father's taller build and his fire-kissed curly hair. All she had of her mother was her blue eyes, a necklace with a small purple stone pendant, and the rumors.

If her mother had been mysterious before her death, the uncertain nature of her disappearance made her almost a legend of Solace.

"I heard goblins were scouting the area, getting ready to attack again! Sefla was their goblin princess that they disguised magic-like as a human so she could spy on us! When they found out she'd gone and got hitched to a human they killed her for treason!"

"Naw, I heard 'twas the lizard folk that got Davvel's lady. Took her back to their lair in the swamps and ate her raw!"

"You both are wrong! She isn't dead at all. She was a changeling and after ensorcelling our good Davvel in order to use him to have a child, she turned back into her original form and flew away. Keep an eye on that Devla - she looks sensible enough, but I've seen a wildness behind those eyes!"

Devla had heard all of the rumors, even the darker ones that she was not supposed to know about, but she knew better than to ask her father for the truth. Instead, when she was old enough she took to exploring the woods, hoping to find some sort of answer on her own. As she wandered she would daydream about what her mother had been like and who her family was. Did she have grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins? A sickness years back, long before Devla was born, had taken all of her father's family, but who knew how big of a family she might have on her mother's side? How grand it must have been to travel all over the world, seeing everything there was to see. Maybe someday that tinkerer caravan would come back to Solace and take her with them.

Her early exploits into the woods were not unnoticed by her father. His first reaction was to forbid her from wandering away from Solace, but Devla was as stubborn as four mules combined, and being told "no" only furthered her resolve to continue. Being unable to bear the thought of losing Devla like he'd lost her mother, Davvel sought out Forden Holt, the woodsman of Solace. If he could not keep Devla safe inside, then he would give her the tools to protect herself outside. And so it was that at the age of ten Devla became Forden's apprentice, a woman of the woods.

As the years went by, Devla gained skill and confidence with the bow. Her prey were those beasts that were dangerous to the people who lived in the outlying areas. She would stalk wild cats from the trees, raining her darts of death before they even knew they were being hunted. No one else would lose a loved one to such beasts if she could help it. As she hunted, Devla never ceased her hopeless search for clues about her mother. No signs were ever found, no bones ever uncovered; she began to wonder if some of the rumors might be true. Perhaps her mother _was_ alive. Perhaps she _was_ a changeling. Some days she would sit high up in a tree and stare off into the distance where the horizon melded with the sky, wondering where her mother and family were, wishing she could somehow go out into the great wide world and find them. She would imagine herself just going, climbing down out of the tree and walking away towards the unknown, but somehow her feet always took her home.

During the summer just before she turned thirteen everything at home changed. A boy about her age had come to town looking for work. He was a farmer's son from the outlying areas of Solace. She had seen him around at times, but did not really know him. The boy had left home after a dispute with his father and went to Solace to seek out a new life. He'd ended up at the tannery, asking if there was aught he could do to help out in return for some money or maybe a place to stay the night.

Davvel surveyed the boy with his grim eyes. He was tall for his age with wide shoulders and a farmhand's muscle. He noted his kind face, but troubled gaze. The two stood regarding each other for a long, quiet moment.

"What are you called, son?" Davvel asked, breaking the lingering silence following the boy's request.

"Pollux, sir," he replied quietly, eyes dropping to the ground to study the cracks in the wooden floor.

Davvel decided almost instantly that he liked him. There was a kinship between them, he felt. Their eyes both held measures of loss, hurt, and distance. He had to admit to himself that he was not getting any younger. The tannery required hard work, and it was wearing on him. He had been thinking of trying to find an apprentice, maybe of sending to his colleague in Haven to see if he had a younger son to spare. He needed someone to pass the family business on to. He had Devla, but she was a girl and running a tannery was a man's work. And Devla, well, she'd need someone when he was gone. A plan was forming in Davvel's mind, and he gave Pollux another critical, appraising look. Yes, this just might work.

"Well, Pollux, I have some stacks of leather in the back room that need to be taken over to Jack. He is in the red house, two trees over from the inn. Deliver them for me, come back here, and I'll show you around the place. It's not a glamorous job, son, and it's liable to slowly turn your own skin into leather, but if you think you are up to it you're welcome to learn." That was a long speech, and no further words were forthcoming. Davvel dismissed the boy with a nod and then went back to the task he had been working on. Relief washed over Pollux's visage and he hurried into the back to get the leather.

When Devla came home that evening with a rabbit slung over her shoulder, she was shocked to see a stranger sitting at the table drinking a mug of beer with her father in silence. "Uh, father?" she hesitated in the doorway, her face a question mark. The last time she remembered someone visiting had been a couple years back when the local healer had come by when she'd come down with an awful cold.

Davvel looked back at her as if nothing was amiss, set down his mug, and then walked over to her. Taking the rabbit from her hands, he nodded towards the boy. "This is Pollux. He'll be helping out at the tannery. Go make some room in the storage closet for him for the night. We'll get a proper bed for him tomorrow."

Pollux stared down at the tabletop shyly.

Devla blinked once, twice, bit her lip to hold back any sort of retort, and then went to sorting out a space for the new member of their household, leaving her father to clean and spit the rabbit. And that was that.

In some ways at first this major change to their home had little effect. Pollux was as quiet and reserved as her father, and Devla would often come home to them sitting in companionable silence. He was polite and always did everything that was asked of him. A couple months later, and it seemed as if Pollux had always been a part of their lives.

This initial peace wasn't to last. One evening, Davvel broke the silence of their normally quiet evening meal, "Pollux doesn't have any family he can claim anymore, and neither do we Devla. Several years from now, after he's gotten good at the business I mean to pass it on to him and retire. I'm too old to keep doing this every day and I want the tannery to stay in the family."

Devla watched her father warily. It wasn't like her father to talk like this. And what did he mean by giving Pollux the tannery and still keeping it in the family? Her face fell as she pieced it together.

"If Pollux doesn't have any objections, I want to announce an official betrothal. Obviously, the actual marriage will need to wait until you are older," Davvel finished his pronouncement in a calm and reasonable tone, with a look that clearly stated that the topic was closed.

Pollux went red all the way up to his hair and nearly choked on a swallow of beer, but did not sputter any objections.

Devla stared at her father in disbelief and then slammed down her fork and stormed out of the house. An arranged marriage! Without even asking her about it! Without even giving her a choice! She knew her father had issues when it came to love and marriage, but that did not mean she had suffer because of it!

Devla was growling under her breath as she slipped down the tree and began to stalk angrily around Solace, heading towards one of her normal haunts on the outskirts of town, trying to calm herself. The nerve of that man! She aimed a frustrated kick at a nearby trunk and neatly smashed her toes. "Ow! Fuck! Ow!" She sunk down to the ground, holding her foot and crying both in pain and anger.

"Hey there cutie, what're you doing down there on the ground?"

Devla opened her eyes and wiped at them, revealing the figure of Brannon, a ward of the innkeeper and her boyfriend. Not that her father knew that, of course.

Brannon hunkered down next to her and started poking at her shoulder. "C'mon, don't be crying. You're such a girl! Crying makes your face all puffy and red. It's not very cute, so stop, yeah?"

She swatted him away irritably. "Shut up, jerk. I happen to know that I am always cute, regardless of whether I am crying or not. And I'm not crying," she objected, "I am just really mad. My dad is such a –! He's so –! Arg! I could just kick him!" She glared at her throbbing foot.

"Well, I've got the cure for that problem," Brannon said with a sly grin as he pulled out a flask from a pocket in his jacket and gave it a little shake. He took a swig and passed it to Devla. She sniffed at it dubiously, but feeling rebellious she shrugged and took a deep gulp. Coughing at the burning in her throat, she passed it back to him.

"Oh, you're such a girl! I told you, you can't even drink without being all girly!"

"Well, if you don't like girls so much, why don't you go find some boy to kiss," Devla replied, pouting.

"Because I like kissing girls, one girl in particular," he replied grinning and kissed her.

After kissing for a little while Devla felt much better, and confessed the reason for why she was so upset. "Just like that! He didn't even ask! It's not fair! I don't like Pollux at all, not like _that_. Hell, I barely even know him – he never talks! He is almost quieter than dad."

"Well," pondered Brannon, sitting back on his heels to think, "it's not like you are actually married yet. It's just a betrothal; the actual thing is years down the road, who knows what could happen before then, eh? Perhaps by then you'll think of something. In the meanwhile, I don't see why we can't still be together. It's not like you have to kiss him or anything between now and then. We'll just keep this a bit more low-key and let your dad think he's won for the moment."

"Maybe you're right," Devla agreed, feeling much better.

And so Devla, Pollux, and Davvel simply did not mention the topic to each other again, although somehow word of the betrothal had managed to spread throughout Solace. Things between Devla and Pollux were awkward for a long while, but with routine things calmed down and settled into a comfortable pattern. She began to think of Pollux kind of like the brother she'd never had. It also seemed to Devla that her father was more at peace than she could ever recall, almost sort of bordering on happiness.

Something else happened that year that, although having less of a potential impact on her life, proved to be something highly irritating that would pester her for many years to follow: a teacher had moved to town. Initially, Devla had been curious about this new person. His name was Harris Hewitt from the nearby city of Haven. He gained familiarity throughout the town at first by taking care of the various accounting and lettering that people around Solace had a need for. He became fast friends with Forden, as Harris had a strong desire to explore the land, especially any remnants of the pre-Cataclysm era that were rotting in the woods.

So, yes, Devla was at first pleased by this supplement to Solace. He was someone new who had weird, interesting stories to tell. However, soon his nefarious secret purpose made itself clear. As he had gone around town being useful, balancing ledgers, writing letters, and generally ingratiating himself with the various adults, he had planted the seeds for his evil plot. One day in late autumn, Devla's father announced that she and Pollux would be spending several hours each week in "class" with many of the other local children. She had thought that this meant they would all sit around whilst Harris spun them tales from long ago about princes and queens and dragons and knights.

The true purpose was no such thing: the wicked man thought to force them to learn to read and write! Books and letters were such useless knowledge. Devla had lived nearly thirteen years without ever knowing a single letter, and she had done just fine. Why try to fix something if it was not broken? What a waste of time! She could be doing something actually useful like catching a rabbit for dinner or kissing her boyfriend.

She watched distrustfully as the other kids got excited and began to study the arts of reading and writing. Even Pollux tried very hard at first. Devla took no small measure of satisfaction that Pollux made no headway. At least she wouldn't be alone in her rejection of that silly nonsense.

Perhaps the worst part was that all of the adults would not give up on trying to force her to participate in such idiocy. If she skipped a class Harris would tattle to her father the next time they saw each other, and then her father would make his displeasure known. If she snuck out into the woods to avoid class she had to be very careful not to come across Forden, who would not only chastise her himself, but also tell her Father and Harris. It didn't help that winter was soon upon them, which made hiding out in the woods increasingly less pleasant. Often, just to not incur the wrath of all the adults she knew, she would give in and attend class. However, attending and learning were not the same things, much to Harris' despair. Devla did not even pretend to try. She spent most of this forced imprisonment thumbing through books looking for pictures, distracting the other students, and making her displeasure and disdain clearly felt.


	2. Part 1 Chapter 2 Bacon Day

Chapter Two

Life went on apace, time flowed without stopping, and Devla learned to cope with both Pollux and class, even if she never did learn how to read or write. On the 18th of Autumn Harvest just before she turned fifteen, the infamous "boar incident" occurred, also known as the first "Bacon Day". Sure, that whole mess helped her like Pollux more, but it also deeply shook her belief in herself and her mentor Forden. During the night before, an outlying homestead north of Solace had been attacked by something that seemed like an animal, but huge. The town council logically turned to Forden, their resident expert on the fauna of the wilds that surrounded Solace, to investigate the situation. If it was the result of an animal he should try to find it and hunt it down, if it looked like humans had been involved in the attack he should return and alert the Solacian militia immediately.

It was second nature at this point for Forden to bring Devla along to observe on such outings. However, because of the unknown, vicious nature of the attack, it was decided to also bring along a novice member of the militia: Landras, a young smith apprentice who was well known for having a penchant for fighting with hammers. Davvel insisted that they bring Pollux along as well to make sure that Devla came to no harm. Rounding out their party was Harris, who was always looking for opportunities to explore the land.

The sight that greeted them at the cottage was shocking. Devla and Forden's examination of the surrounding ground clearly showed that only one animal's tracks lead to and from the home – probably a boar, except that the marks were way too large. The tracks told one story, but the damage told another one. The building looked like a giant troll had smacked it repeatedly with a large, spiked club. How could a single beast do so much damage?

Being confident, however, that this was not a human attack, the troupe followed the tracks of the beast around the far side of the large lake. Devla examined the ground and determined that the beast was probably inside of the small cave that overlooked the water. Forden, proud of his protégée for reading the tracks so well, motioned that the others should stay back while he careful moved closer to figure out the status of the beast. Once there, he could just barely make out an animal shape inside. It was making slow, regular breathing noises – it was asleep.

Forden made his way back to the group and laid out his plan for attack. They knew that the beast was capable of a lot of damage, so they should take precautions. Landras, being the only one with good, solid armor and a giant shield, would block the animal's path as it left the cave. Devla and Forden would be just behind and to either side of Landras so that they could pepper it with arrows while it was engaged with him. Harris and Pollux would climb onto the top of the cave and drop rocks down on it, hopefully pinning the beast just as it left the cave, making it easy pickings, or at the least hurting and confusing it.

Forden had never steered Devla wrong before. She trusted wholeheartedly in his judgment and expertise when it came to the woods and hunting. She was excited: this was the first real mission she had been given an active part in. Forden had brought her along on many outings, but he had not allowed her to take a full role in any attack of this magnitude before. She imagined herself felling the beast all by herself with one perfectly placed arrow in its eye. She'd show Forden how much she had learned, that she was no longer a novice but instead a skilled woods woman in her own right. Everyone would be so proud and impressed with her. She couldn't wait! Almost wriggling with excitement and anticipation, she took up her spot to the right and a pace behind Landras.

Forden signaled the attack and both he and Devla let an arrow fly into the cave in order to rouse the beast. The quiet hillside was suddenly filled with the noise of angry snorting. Half a second later, a giant wild boar rushed from the cave to attack. Landras stood firm. Harris and Pollux pushed down rocks and, as planned, temporarily pinned it down. Devla had managed to feather it a couple times, as had Forden, but the beast was not weakening. This was no common big boar. Landras smashed at it, but it continued to struggle and then, with one great heave, pulled itself free of the rubble. It charged forward enraged, dodging to the right of Landras in order to avoid his painful hammer blows. It had its eyes on a less formidable target that was standing in between it and freedom. Before Devla could move, before anyone could react, the boar slammed its terrible tusks into her chest, lifting her for a moment and tossing her to the side were she collapsed unconscious in a bloody heap.

Pollux was filled with rage at what he saw. Pollux's philosophy on life was simple: help friends, harm enemies. Devla was his friend; he was supposed to protect her, and he had failed. Failed miserably. With a roar he took a mighty leap off of the cave roof. His club smashed into the boar's skull with all of the momentum from his descent, instantly killing the vile beast.

Forden hastily dropped his gear and hurried to Devla's side. He murmured a quiet "thank you" to he did not know whom when he saw she was still alive. Rolling her carefully onto her back, her wounds were revealed. A huge, ragged gash had been opened up along the length of her chest. She was bleeding profusely. Where there wasn't blood, one could already see dark bruises blossoming all over where the boar had struck her. More unnerving, something about her rib cage seemed misshapen. She also appeared to have hit her head hard on the ground when she fell. A deep, sinking feeling swept over Forden, the damage was overwhelming and she was quickly bleeding out, but he managed to hold on to his reserve and did not give in to despair. Normally, he would apply pressure to a wound to slow the bleeding, but he was afraid to do so with this injury – he could tell that a lot of things seemed to be broken in her chest and if he pressed too hard it was likely do to more harm than good. Forden looked up. The others were standing around anxious and uncertain: would the death count today be only one, or two? Forden ignored them for the moment and scanned the land.

"Harris, to the left of the top of the cave, that's a hemlock tree. Quickly bring me as many of the needles as you can. Pollux, we passed some yarrow at the base of this hill by that stand of trees. It's yea high," he gestured with a bloody hand," and has a clump of small white flowers at the top whose blooms are just about all gone. Ferny leaves along the stem. Bring me all of it. Landras, can you find two rocks that I can use for grinding? Then bring me all of the water we have on hand."

Everyone rushed to their tasks, even as Devla's life continued rushing out of her body. However, her friends were faster, and before very long Forden had applied a thick poultice on her chest and the bleeding slowed down. They very carefully transferred her onto Landras' tower shield. They all took turns helping to carry the makeshift stretcher so as to be able to return to Solace as quickly as possible. When they reached the healer's home, Forden reflected that with such a horrible injury it was perhaps a mercy that Devla had still yet to regain consciousness, as the rushed journey home would have been unbearably painful; however, would she ever wake up?

Devla missed out on the first Bacon Day. After the team had gotten to Solace and done as much for Devla as they could, they told the townspeople what had happened and some of the men went out to collect the beast. It was so large that there was a surplus of bacon and other pork products, and everyone ate pig for nearly a week. This quickly became a yearly tradition, although for the following years they chose to eat only the smaller and safer boars.

There was not much bacon left by the time Devla finally woke up. There was only one real healer in Solace. He was married to an elf and had a half-breed child. The family was largely only tolerated because of the need for his services. Regardless, the healer always worked as hard as he could, and in Devla's case this meant nearly around the clock monitoring. For the first several days he refused to answer anyone who asked if Devla would live – he did not want to throw them into despair, nor did he want to give them false hope. As the days went on and no infection set in, such a thing would have been a sure death sentence and was probably avoided due to Forden's immediate use of the antiseptic yarrow, the healer finally would give an answer: "We can hope so." It was, perhaps, not the most comforting statement, but it did give them hope.

And so, about a week after the boar incident, Devla finally came to for the first time. She hurt. She hurt a lot. She started to panic. She couldn't seem to move, she felt weak and heavy. It was hard to breathe. What had happened? She could not seem to remember what it was she had just been doing before she went to sleep. Her eyes flew open, and the ceiling she saw was not her own. A pathetic moan of fear escaped her lips, something was very wrong. She was hyperventilating, and the quick breaths were causing her chest to explode in unmanageable pain. Just as spots began to dot her vision and the world faded back into blackness she thought she could vaguely hear someone she knew, a voice she should know, calling out, "Quick, she opened her eyes! Devla! Devla?"

The next time she woke up she was able to keep herself somewhat calmer. She kept her eyes closed, trying to remember, trying to figure out what was wrong. Her memory was fuzzy and all she could manage were flashes of the lake and a cave, but it made no sense to her. She took a mental stock of her situation. She was in a bed. Her chest felt like an inferno of pain that sent tendrils of its fire all throughout every nook and cranny of her body. She must have gotten hurt. Badly. At about this time she realized that someone was holding one of her hands.

"W-what..?" she croaked pathetically, and was shocked at the hollowness of her own voice. She opened her eyes, blinking at the bright light in the room, and slowly turned her head towards the person. There sat her father, looking haggard, tired, and old. He was sleeping. She gave his hand a squeeze and was rewarded with a ripple of pain that made her gasp. She swallowed and cleared her throat, "…Dad?"

Davvel sat up with a start, accidentally yanking Devla's hand and producing a yelp of pain from her. "Sorry! Sorrysorry," he carefully patted her hand as if that could fix it, then took a breath to steady himself and smiled a weary, sad, and relieved smile which faded away almost as quickly as it had appeared. "Welcome back, honey," with his fingers he tenderly brushed tussled hair out of her eyes, while also testing her temperature. "How do you feel? Should I go get the healer? He can give you something for the pain, but it'll put you to sleep…"

"No. Dad. Dad, what happened? …How bad is it? I feel like a wet, flaming bear is sitting on my chest."

"Devla, you were-… Gods' mercy, Devla!" He couldn't continue. For Davvel it had been like his worst nightmare had come true. If that beast had-… If Devla had-… He didn't know what he would have done. He couldn't keep himself from seeing it. What had he done to deserve such torment, to have everything he loved destroyed? He was crying, and he had to remind himself that the worst had not happened. His little girl was still here.

About this time the healer came in. He laid a comforting hand on Davvel's shoulder for a moment before checking on Devla. "Can you remember anything about what happened, Devla? Follow my finger with your eyes. Good. Last week you were gored very badly on the other side of the lake when Forden and the rest of your lot were hunting down that giant boar. Can you feel this?" he lightly applied pressure on her toes. "Good. And this?" he did the same to Devla's fingers, and allowed a small smile at Devla's affirmation. "Good."

He leaned back a bit to regard Devla, "The good news is you didn't die, but it was a close thing. You were more or less ripped open from your navel to your shoulder, and largely what wasn't ripped was broken."

Devla winced, somehow hearing about it made the pain even worse. But hearing about it helped her to remember, "Yes, the boar. Stupid stupid stupid."

"Shhh, you cannot undo what has been done. This is going to sting a bit," said the healer as he started to check the bandages and poultices covering Devla's chest. Sting was an evil understatement. When he was done torturinging Devla he brought over a cup smelling of something bitter. "Be glad that you can feel the pain, that's a good sign. It means you're alive, yes?. Drink this."

Devla did as she was told, and within moments the room began to spin away. Just before she slipped under she remembered something very important and tried to fight her way back. "The boar!" she both slurred and shouted. "Everyone else! Are they?" but she was asleep before she could hear the answer.

Recovery was a slow and arduous process. After another week at the healer's, her father and Pollux were finally able to take her home. All that really did, however, was change the scenery as she was still confined to bed. It was about a month after the initial accident that she was able to stand up. It was another month after that before she was able to get around the house by herself. She spent the long winter months slowly recovering her strength. Her friends stopped by occasionally to check in on her. Harris even had the nerve one day to bring over a book and suggest that this would be the perfect time for her to work on learning to read; Devla decided after he left that it made perfect kindling. Despite these occasional visits, more often than not she was left alone.

She had a lot of time to think.

It was still hard for her to believe the story of what had happened. It was too much, too horrible, to be able to put herself in that tale. However, the gruesome scar that ran down her chest paid silent testimony to the truth. She was very impressed and flattered by Pollux' daring attack on the beast to rescue her. If he had not taken that risk for her, the boar might have had another go at her. Had that happened she would have died for sure. She owed him her life, but wasn't really sure how she was supposed to respond to that.

She was less impressed with Forden. Sure, she'd been told that if it had not been for Forden's quick and skillful administrations in the field she would have bled to death before reaching Solace. It was not that she wasn't appreciative of this, but the truth was that if it had not been for Forden she would never had been hurt in the first place. He was supposed to know about these sorts of things, to know about how and when to hunt such beasts. He was supposed to be teaching her and protecting her. He was the adult, he should have known better. He should have recognized how strong something must be to have done so much damage at the cottage and therein known that a small group of kids could not hope to stand up to something that a house could not. He should never have brought them to the cave. He should never have put children directly in harm's way. He had even used one of them as a shield! That selfish bastard.

Even beyond that, what sort of tactics were those? Why were the ranged fighters in the direct line of attack when there was a perfect perch out of harm's way? Disregarding their age and lack of skill for such situations, should not the two melee fighters have been on the ground? Devla should have been up on top of that cave. Had she stopped and thought tactically before they attacked she would have realized this, she told herself. But why would she have? Forden was supposed to be skilled and smart and know what he was doing. She had done as he had said without thinking for herself. Well, she would never make that mistake again.

She had thought him infallible; she had looked up to him; she had respected him; she had freely acknowledged that she would never be able to reach his level of expertise; she had _trusted_ him… and he had failed her.

He had trusted in her, and she had failed him. She should have shot truer; she should have pulled harder; she should have dodged faster; she should have been _better_. She had trusted in herself, and she had failed – she had failed everyone. She had fooled everyone into believing that she had what it took to hbe a huntress, a terror of the woods. Oh, How she had strutted about, showing off her kills, boasting of her exploits, she reflected with chagrin. How would she be able to show her face again, after such a massive failure? Would she ever live this down?

And what had she done to her father? Every now and then she'd catch him looking at her when he thought she could not see. The look in his eyes was that of a haunted man. She could swear that he had aged years in the first months after the boar. His fiery hair, once so like hers, had faded into a quiet glow streaked with silver. All trace of the peacefulness he had attained in the last couple years was gone. _I wonder if this is how he looked when mother died_, she would often think to herself. So_metimes he looks at me as if I had died and he is living with a ghost. Has he been watching mother all these years, too?_

She would occasionally just stop and stare at herself in the mirror in her room when she was getting dressed. The long, twisted, angry scar stretched the length of her torso in one long stroke, forever marring her. The bruises had faded with time, but this never would: an eternal tattoo of her inadequacy. She could never be beautiful now. Sure, she could hide it from normal view if she wore high cut shirts, but that would be lying. How would anyone ever want her with such a disgusting blight on her body? Maybe it was a good thing after all that she was betrothed to Pollux, she'd never find anyone else now. She'd seen the look in Brannon's eyes when he'd first seen the top of it peeking out. Just that small view had been enough. She could see that he had trouble looking at her after that. What if he had seen the whole of it? In fact, it seemed like everyone had problems looking at her now. Their eyes always seemed to be fixed on her scar, or on the air just to the side of her head.

Her scar was her daily, personal reminder of all that she was not. If ever she started to feel good about herself, all she had to do was run her fingers over that puckered skin and she'd remember the truth.

And Solace made sure to not let her forget either, as if she could. Bacon Day. _Bacon Day!_ Whose twisted, evil idea had it been to make that a new town festival? Each year on the 18th the whole town would come together to eat porcine products, drink, dance, and generally have a great time. Someone had put the fiasco into a foul, off-key ballad. Supposedly it was to celebrate the hunt and the overcoming of dire odds, but Devla could hear the undertone of criticism and mockery in every note. Every fall she dreaded the approach of Bacon Day.

Once, towards the end of the winter of her recovery, she looked for her bow. She wasn't planning on going out, of course; she still had troubles just getting around her home. She had always taken good care of it in the past, always cleaning and checking it for wear at the end of each day. She hadn't even thought of what had happened to it until now. What if it had just been tossed in the storage closet without cleaning it first? Worse, what if it had been broken and she had to get a whole new bow?

It took a bit of rummaging, but she eventually found it under a pile of sacks in the back corner of a storage closet. She shook her head disapprovingly, as she had feared they had neglected to take proper care of it. She took it out to the front room by the fireplace so she could see it in better light. Well, the bow itself was unharmed, but it had gotten weird dark blotches all over it. At first she thought it a mold, and then with a shudder she realized it was her own blood that had soaked into the wood. She lightly ran her fingers over the marks, feeling a chill run up her back.

Something perverse in her caused her to drop into the stance she had been in when facing down the boar. It hurt, and she had to move slowly to ease her arms and shoulders into the proper positions. She could feel the tautness in her healing flesh.

She sighted down her imaginary arrow and relived that day. She could feel the autumn breeze coming off from the lake ruffling the hair on the back of her neck. She could see the sun glancing off of one of Landras' hammers and glaring in her eyes. She could hear the boar's angry snorts as it began to rush out of the cave. She was terrified and shaking badly. Caught in her own living nightmare, she had not seen nor heard her father come home. When he ripped the bow from her hands she let out a frightened cry and sank to the floor. Davvel threw the weapon on the fire. He picked her up roughly and carried her to her room.

His shoulders were tense and his brow was furrowed into an angry scowl. After setting her on her bed he took her chin between two vice-like fingers and forced her to look at him. His eyes bore into hers. "No, Devla. No more. Not again," he growled and then abruptly left the room before she could see the naked fear that was hiding behind his anger.


	3. Part 1 Chapter 3 Forbidden

Chapter Three

At first when her father, Forden, Brannon, and basically all of Solace had forbid her to go out hunting she had been fine with it because she had been too scared. Being smashed into a puddle, a hair's breadth from death, had a way of doing that to a girl. However, as she spent the final days of winter and the early days of spring helping around the tannery or lying awake at night, she began to hate herself for her cowardice. Before long she had found a way to filch one of Forden's old bows. At night she would sneak out to wander the woods and bring down any dangerous beasts she found. She had to prove to herself that she was strong enough and brave enough to continue on this path again. She knew that it was not fair to her father, but what he did not know could not hurt him, and when had life ever been fair anyways? At first, her shots were poor and she could only hit one in ten, but she worked at it night after night. It was not long before she had not only regained her old skill with the bow, but had gotten a good deal better at sneaking.

One of her first tests of her sneaking skills, beyond slipping out of her home, came in about a month. She was leaving the inn after a late afternoon snack of the famously delicious spiced potatoes, when she heard the murmur of rumor run through the room. It seemed that Harris and Forden had gone on another of their trips to find ruins in the wilds. Somehow Harris had gotten stuck in the old mining town they had found. Forden had rushed back to town to gather a few people to help rescue him.

"Aye, foolish business those two are always up to." One of the patrons exclaimed to his mate, who nodded sagely in agreement. "And who does he run to? Those kids again! They left in a hurry or I daresay some of the capable men would've insisted on coming. By the time we'd heard what was going on they'd already left, and who knows where they are headed? You'd think after what happened to Davvel's daughter, Holt would have more sense than to keep dragging those children into the woods!"

"Terrible thing that was. On the bright side we got to eat all of that bacon. Maybe this time they'll come back with a giant chicken!" his companion guffawed.

Devla, whose presence was apparently unnoticed, had paused on her way out of the door to listen. Her hands clenched angrily and she slipped outside. The chill breeze of the spring evening helped to cool her face which was burning in anger and shame. They had left her behind! Without even the decency to ask her about it first! Even Pollux had gone without her.

She knew why. They thought she was weak, fragile, and unable to take care of herself. A liability. Unskilled. A dead weight. She continued the angry litany in her head as she made a bee-line towards home. Well, she'd show them.

She found her father home, just back from the tannery. "Father, Lizzy asked if I'd like to spend the night at her place tonight. Is it alright?" she told the lie calmly. Her father assented, as she knew he would. She quickly packed up a couple things suitable for a sleepover, said goodnight, and then skipped over towards her best friend's house. Once she was near, she made sure no one was watching and then quickly slipped out of town. She dumped off her pack in her secret hiding spot, a hollow high up in the crook of a tree. The opening was small, but the room inside held a surprising amount of things, such as her hunting gear, which she quickly equipped herself with.

Next, she had to find their trail, but they could have left from any direction. She paused for a moment, thinking. She knew that Landras would have had to stop by his home in order to get his armor and hammers, so she carefully made her way there. It was easy to pick out his heavy footsteps, and as luck would have it, it seemed like this had been the last place they stopped before heading out. Their path was easy to make out, as they were moving quickly and unconcerned about being followed.

Once in the woods proper she stopped to examine the tracks a bit more carefully. She knew Forden's prints well from all of their time in the woods together. The heavy ones were Landras', on account of his armor, and the large ones were Pollux's. There was another set, however, that she did not recognize and that gave her a momentary pause. Who else had Forden chosen? Was this some new apprentice she hadn't heard about – her replacement?

Scowling, she checked the freshness of the tracks and the trampled vegetation. They had a lead on her, but it didn't seem that they were too terribly far ahead. She was pretty sure that if she hurried she'd catch up; she hadn't decided what she would do when she did.

By the time she could just make out their shapes up ahead she still hadn't decided. Why had she come? She hesitated. She wasn't sure that she wanted to let them know she had followed. After all, she wasn't supposed to be here. She could just imagine how pissed Forden and her father would be if they knew. This had probably been a bad idea.

_Well, it will been a bad idea if they find out_, she reasoned,_ but they don't have to know_. As much as she wanted to run up and start berating them for discarding her like so much useless broken refuse, she held herself back. Forden thought himself so great, but he hadn't noticed her tailing them. Some woodsman. What if she was a pack of wolves stalking its prey? Forden probably wouldn't notice until they were upon him. He'd probably hide and make Pollux and Landras take the brunt of the attack again, she thought, smirking.

Devla nodded to herself, resolved, before resuming her silent pursuit. _Swift as a wolf. Silent as a shadow._ She hunted her quarry. Oh, wouldn't Forden be embarrassed if he knew that she had been able to slip under his radar undetected! Too bad she couldn't let him know and rub it in his face without bringing down the wrath of everyone she knew. A pity – the look on his face would be priceless.

As she followed, she was able to catch glimpses of the extra person. She was rather surprised to see that it was the son of the healer, returned recently to Solace from studying the arcane arts. She had known him a little when they were younger, his name was Victor, but he'd been sent off when she was about twelve and had only recently returned. Due to her injury, she'd seen him quite a few times since his return, as he'd frequently help his father with his tasks. Mostly handing him things, Devla reflected. She'd never seen him do any magic or any actual healer work. It didn't seem he was very interested in learning his father's trade. Generally, she thought this was silly as healing skills were very important and respected. How else was a half-breed going to gain acceptance in the world without having a suitably important and needed skill? On the other hand, knowing how to use magic was fairly unique, so perhaps that was how he hoped to make his mark - assuming he could actually use it. But what use was it? Magic didn't do anything useful, as far as she could tell, unless one was some legendary hero fighting equally legendary evils, and that definitely was not something that was going to happen in her lifetime.

The idea of magic, of some otherwise normal person wielding such a thing, mystified Devla. Even frightened her a little. She'd very rarely had any opportunity to see real magic up close, and when she had it was mostly simple things like fun light displays or making small objects move without being touched. However, she'd heard many stories about other types of magic. About people who could engulf entire houses in flame with a snap of their fingers, or summon evil giant beasts to do their bidding. That sort of magic Devla was very uncomfortable with, and she hoped that she would never see such things. She knew such power existed outside of the stories, and as she watched Victor, she wondered why he had decided to learn it.

As she quietly dogged their steps, she admitted that magic was about as frightening as it was alluring. It was wild and dangerous, not unlike some vicious beast of the woods. She grasped being drawn towards dangerous things, and she knew the thrill she got when she bested them. Perhaps that was it then. Perhaps Victor wanted to prove himself to be more than some half-elf by showing that he could wrestle with such a powerful force and bend it to his will. This was something she could understand. Maybe Victor was not so different from herself, even if he could read.

Full night had fallen by the time the group reached Harris. Devla kept back as far as she could while still being able to see what was going on, although this meant she could not make out everything that was said. It appeared that Harris had fallen into an old mine shaft and some rubble had landed on his leg, pinning him down. As Devla watched everyone carefully excavate Harris, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head slowly, so as to not startle whatever it was. Far back, in the opposite direction from where the mine was, Devla could make out a softly glowing humanoid shape. She stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending, and then silently pulled out her bow and readied an arrow. Softly, she began to move closer to it, but as she went forward it moved away. However, the more she looked at it the more she could make out. Maybe she was crazy, but it looked like an elf that was glowing with a white light and wearing weird clothing. She worried at first that it was planning on attacking her friends, but it soon became obvious that it was moving far away. She cautiously lowered her bow and glanced back. Devla was startled to see that she could barely make out the break in the trees where the old mining town was. She'd gone much deeper into the woods following that creature than she had intended. She shuddered, remembering the many sordid tales of the Darken Wood that were told by campfires to scare the children. She had never given too much credence to the stories, but now she was suddenly less sure. She hastily retreated back to her previous hiding spot, only to see that Harris had been rescued and the group was beginning to head back towards Solace. She trailed behind them, staying a little bit closer than before and frequently glancing around for any sign of something strange.

Luckily, she eventually made it back without being attacked by some scary monster or being caught by Forden. She wasn't sure which would have been worse. She was tired, and was about to sneak back to her room when she remembered with chagrin that she was supposedly spending the night at her friend's house. She glanced at the sky and cursed. It was too late to go over to Lizzy's, and she couldn't go home lest her little excursion be discovered. Sighing, she slipped back into the woods, found a nice nook between two trees to curl up in, and tried to sleep. Her dreams were filled with ghosts.


	4. Part 1 Chapter 4 Cult of Belzor

Chapter Four

Before the boar, Devla had spent most of her days in the woods either training with Forden or hunting alone. Now, however, her father did his best to keep her in eyesight by burdening her with small tasks around the tannery. She felt caged. Sure, frequently she was able to sneak out at night for a few hours of freedom, but it was never enough and left her tired for much of the next day. She missed being able to go where and when she pleased. As she watched the life of the town during those long days of wet spring, she slowly began to understand the novelty of her situation in a way she had never appreciated before. She had gone directly from the freedom of childhood to the freedom of the woods, but most women her age had long since become homebound, kept with their mothers to be taught the skills they would need for womanhood. In fact, several of the girls barely older than Devla had already been married off and were starting their own families. This caused a sense of unease to settle on her. Being sixteen now, she was of marrying age. She didn't know what to think of it, really. She loved her boyfriend Brannon… didn't she? But did she want to actually _marry_ him? And what about her betrothal to Pollux? Would her father try to push that soon, too? The idea of spending every day for the rest of her life busy cleaning and cooking and sewing and taking care of babies terrified her. And at night, well, how would she ever find a way to sneak off into the woods? Would she forever lose that part of her life? She fervently hoped she could remain a child for ever.

The monotony of Solician life changed that spring. A couple of traveling missionaries came to town to preach about some new god called "Belzor". Whisperings of scandal and excitement spread throughout all of the trees in town. Religion had been lost ever since the great Cataclysm broke the world. It was said that this was also when the gods had left. All of the magic that was drawn from the gods had ceased to work, all of the clerics and populace had lost faith, and people had moved on alone without celestial aid. In all of the hundreds of years since then, no one had been able to find the gods. It was rumored that they had not fled, but had died and would therefore never return. However, there was a group that believed the gods were still out there, either new ones or old ones, and that somehow they might be able to be contacted again. This group called themselves the Seekers, but years and years and years of searching never resulted in finding even shadows of what they sought.

So, it was pretty shocking when the priests of Belzor came to town, preaching the gospel of their new faith. Devla was hesitant, but very curious. Had a god finally returned? What would that mean? What would happen now? And why had this god appeared? She watched the sermons from the outskirts of the group, uncertain if she was willing to believe. All around town converts popped up, and before too long the Belzorite faith had a firm foothold in the life of Solace.

Not long after, Forden's mother fell very ill. She begged Forden to travel to the main Temple of Belzor at the nearby city of Haven and ask them to pray for her recovery. Although Forden put no stock in the new faith, he knew how much it meant to her. Anyway, it was always nice to have an excuse to visit the city.

As luck would have it, the tanner had been planning on making a trip to Haven himself in order to offload some leather and pick up sundry supplies. With the condition that Pollux accompany her, Davvel suggested to Devla that she should go along in his stead. As Forden prepared to leave, he let some of the others know about the trip. Harris had been keen to return to Haven to look for some tome or another at the city's library, and Victor and Landras decided to come along as well just for the sense of adventure.

Devla was ecstatic to have a legitimate excuse to get out of the confines of town, even if it did feel weird to travel without her normal kit and bow. The excitement of the trip was almost enough to let her forget both why she no was longer allowed to go out, and whose fault it was. The morning of travel passed delightfully and uneventfully. Once at their destination, the group split up to take care of their various tasks and agreed to meet at the inn at first gloaming. Devla was very proud to represent her father to the merchants and craftsmen, although she would have preferred to not have Pollux dogging her steps like a baby-sitter. It was nice and all that he felt the need to protect her, but it wasn't as if there were any boars running around the city! Not live ones at any rate.

Devla and Pollux entered the common room of the inn just as the sky was fading from blue to brilliant orange. They found the others already in attendance, chatting animatedly around a table. Stopping first to order ale from the bar, they made their way over to their friends.

"I tell you, it was the most ridiculous thing I have ever been a part of in my entire life! Just a bunch of guys standing around chanting nonsense with a few showman magic tricks thrown in. Worst way to spend gold, but at least it'll make Mother happy. Mayhap give her a sense of ease, even if it is all hogwash." Forden fiddled with an amulet that was strung around his neck whilst he described his time at the Belzorite temple.

"Nice bit of jewelry you picked up, Forden. Won't your wife be jealous you didn't get her anything, though?" Devla joked as she found a seat and sampled her brew. Ah! So much better than the stuff they kept at home.

"No, Devla," replied Forden, looking faintly annoyed. Man, that guy could never take a jest, could he? "It's a token from the Temple to show that I made an offering. A type of blessing for me to pass on to Mother, I guess. Kind of gaudy though, isn't it?" he went on, but made no move to remove it.

"Ah, may I see it? I wonder if they modeled it on any ancient artifacts that the old temples used to use," piped up Harris, looking suddenly much like an excited puppy.

Forden clutched possessively at it, and slowly shook his head. "No. I… I think I should really keep it on."

"There is an enchantment on it, of course." Victor stated with a faint air of superiority. "I'd wager from how Forden is reacting that it makes the wearer not want to remove it. Not very good quality magic, though," he sniffed.

A brief struggle to remove the amulet commenced. Eventually, it took Landras pulling at it with his gauntlets as a buffer to get it off. The thing did its damnedest to shock the remover, and the process also left Forden looking like he was about to roll under the table and vomit. After the ordeal was over, everyone stared at the object on the table.

"Well." Devla sipped her beer and canted her head to the side, but offered no other enlightenment. Magic and gods? This was very much not her forte. She decided for the moment to let the others sort this out;, no doubt it would be amusing to watch. However, after several minutes of them getting no further than discussing "What does it do?" and "What happens if someone else puts it on?", Devla began to grow bored with all talk and no action.

"Look, we want to know more about it, yes? Let's get some stranger to put it on and see what happens. Maybe he'll explode, or evil Belzorites will pour in here and attack him, or maybe nothing will happen and it isn't nefarious at all." A grin spread across her face, now slightly flushed from drink, "I'll just go make nice with one of those blokes at the bar, bat some eyelashes and whatnot, and get him to put it on as a token of my favor. It'll be quick and easy!"

Victor appeared to be amused by the notion, but Forden looked horrified at the idea of letting his charge flirt with strangers. What would Davvel do if he found out? Harris shared Forden's sentiments and so quickly plucked the necklace up and tried to put it over his own head. However, before he could get it even partially on, the item's magic strongly resisted him both physically and mentally. Queasily, he laid it back down on the table.

Victor raised an interested brow as he clinically observed the effects. "Interesting. It appears to be specifically attuned to you, Forden. Very interesting, indeed," he concluded as he slipped the amulet into his pocket for the nonce.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that the priests of Belzor might not be nearly as benign as they appear. What are they up to? If only we could somehow get inside the temple and see what they are doing behind the scenes." Harris tapped his fingers lightly against his chin as he mused.

Devla clapped her hands together in delight, "I got it! We can sneak into the temple and find out what they are doing! Tonight!" She began to giggle a bit too excitedly, noticed how everyone was staring at her, and took a deep breath. "Right then, shall we? Rather, shall I? I don't think we'd _all_ be able to get in unnoticed…"

"It does seem like the only way," Harris agreed, trying to appear reluctant, but obviously looking excited by the adventure. "But Devla shouldn't go alone. I'll go, too. Everyone else can loiter around nearby in case anything untoward occurs."

And that was that. Devla's many nights of sneaking out of her home had given her a light step and an eye for good shadows to hide in. Almost as soon as they entered the big, quiet, dark temple Harris lost sight of her. As planned, he explored to the right and Devla explored to the left.

_As silent as a shadow_, Devla told herself as she slipped through the main chamber and down a hallway leading to the back rooms. She could make out light coming from the cracks under a door. She crept close and was rewarded with the sound of two men speaking in hushed tones. As expected, "Belzor" was a fake, a con for the purpose of gathering money and power throughout the land. Devla also heard them discuss Forden's necklace. Apparently, they used the things to track certain followers, and were aware that Forden had removed his. They were planning on somehow stopping her friends from leaving Haven, lest their secret get out!

Devla could hear the shuffling of what sounded like someone standing up. Afraid that the men might be getting ready to leave the room, she quickly slipped from the temple. Harris had already made it out.

They reconvened with the rest of the group to share what they had learned. Devla soberly relayed what she had heard, and everyone agreed that they must find a way to get the cult banished. They also puzzled over how exactly the cult could think to stop them from leaving town.

After hearing the Devla's valuable information, all eyes turned to Harris to see what he had found out. He triumphantly held up a book he had filched, a worn notebook of sorts filled with scribbles and numbers. The satisfaction radiating from Harris' face was met with vague confusion from everyone else.

_Some stupid book, really?_ Devla smirked a little, feeling superior. Harris was basically twice her age and she had surpassed his usefulness by leaps and bounds. How exactly did that man think pieces of paper would help them uncover the nefarious designs of Belzor's priesthood? She held back a derisive snort and suggested that they return to the inn and get some sleep before the morrow.

As they rode in their wagon towards the gate the next morning, they started to get an idea of what the cult was up to. It appeared that the city watch was searching everyone as they left. The rumor was that someone had stolen valuables last night. Devla and her group shared significant looks. Thinking that the object in question must be the necklace, Victor cannily placed the amulet in his mouth and motioned that the others should bandage his head as if he'd hurt his jaw. The guards approached their cart and began interrogating them suspiciously. Just as they were about to start searching the goods Devla had picked up for her father, Pollux suddenly jumped down and darted away. Harris, who had been handling the situation, quickly quipped that the boy had been very sick all night and had no doubt felt a sudden call of nature. As Harris spoke, smiling amiably, he slipped the guard a couple gold pieces. The troupe was soon through the gate and on their way back to Haven. They had all been confused by Pollux's sudden departure, but he caught up to them not long later, shrugging, but not saying what had happened. It had been an odd trip all around, so everyone let the matter rest.

Victor removed the necklace from his mouth as soon as they were out of sight from Haven. However, minutes later the thing melted away into dust. Victor was less than pleased that he had not had ample time to study the item. Devla was kind of glad; the whole thing had made her rather uncomfortable. _Magic and gods_. They were both such big unknowns to her, incomprehensible.

After about an hour, Devla scooted to sit next to Victor and began to talk to him quietly, "I know you were never taken in by those shysters, Victor, but, well, at first I was quite curious about them. And I was wondering… What if Belzor isn't a lie? Yeah, the people running that operation are fakers, but what if they are right without knowing it?"

"Doubtful," he replied concisely. The twitching of his somewhat pointed ear was the only physical sign of his amusement at Devla's attempt to understand such complex topics.

Devla plowed ahead, ignoring his lack of talkatively on the subject, "I had always thought of the gods as long dead, you know? But a part of me wonders now if perhaps a couple might have survived, much in the same way you can think you killed all of the rats in your house, you won't see any for weeks, and then on a quiet night you hear one scuttle across your bedroom floor. Perhaps a few of the smarter or slier gods found a deep hole to hide in and will some night scamper across the world when we all are sleeping. It scares me, Victor, that the craftiest ones, the ones subtle enough to hide so well, would be those to survive..."

She frowned and fiddled with the hem of her cloak. "If all of the gods really did die, where would the new ones come from that the Seekers seek? From what is a god born? You studied magic, Victor. Does magic come from the gods, or do the gods come from magic?"

"There are no gods anymore, Devla, and I somewhat doubt if there ever truly were. If the gods are dead or never existed in the first place, yet we have magic now, then we must surmise that magic does not rely upon the gods."

Her eyes got wide as a thought stuck her, "Wouldn't it be interesting if the gods were dependent on magic? What if potent enough magic could give birth to a new god? Wouldn't be interesting to try, to be the father of a god?"

Victor smirked a little at her enthusiasm and shook his head. Obviously, she just wasn't on the right level to really understand the deep workings of magic and gods. Devla, however, lapsed into silence and continued to think about the subject for the rest of the trip. It would be a topic she would come back to again and again for a long time afterward.

As it turned out, the book Harris had "borrowed" from the temple in Haven was a ledger that happened to track a lot of unsavory financial practices. A couple of weeks after their initial trip, Forden and Harris returned to tell the story of what had happened to them, what they had heard, and what they had learned. The city council, largely composed of members of the Seeker movement, found the evidence damning. The Belzorites were banished from the region and secularism was restored.


	5. Part 1 Chapter 5 Caught!

Chapter Five

For the rest of spring and into summer, Devla continued her almost nightly secret forays into the woods. The trips were not destined to remain secret, unfortunately. In the middle of summer, late in the night, she was caught by Brannon. Things had been decidedly lukewarm between them after her accident. Perhaps the reason was that they had not seen much of each other, as he could not visit her at home very often. When he did come over, they had to be sure to behave as they still did not want Devla's dad to know about their relationship. So they barely saw each other at all during those long months of winter. In the spring, when Devla was finally able to leave the house and wander Solace again, Brannon always treated her like some sort of invalid, which she guessed was a valid point but it irked her nevertheless. He told her in no uncertain terms that she simply was not allowed to go out in the woods anymore. This irked her even more, and so she had kept her nightly exploits a secret from him.

She had not been paying enough attention on her way back into Solace that night. It was late, and she was in a bad mood because she had managed to get a nasty gash along the side of her arm. She had snagged it on a broken branch during a poorly thought-out jump down from a tree. It wasn't horrible, wouldn't need stitched or anything, but it stung something awful. How lame, it wasn't even from hunting, but how was she going to explain the injury in the morning? It was a hot summer, so there was no hiding behind long sleeves. She was approaching the base of her home tree when she bumped, literally, into Brannon. He was drunk, on his way back from the tavern after an evening of carousing.

"Eh! Devla, what're you doin' out here so late? Shouldn't you be gettin' your beauty rest?" he slurred, slipping an arm around her shoulders and leaning in for a kiss. Devla's hurt arm got pinned in the sloppy embrace, and she let out an unintended cry of pain. Brannon's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he grabbed at her arm when she tried to hide it. He stretched her arm out and looked at the wound, which had begun to bleed again. "What have you been doing?" he growled, his voice rising loudly in anger. "You were out there again, weren't you? Weren't you?" he demanded. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

His grip tightened, causing Devla to wince. "No, no, I wasn't! I, uh, I was…" she trailed off in despair, giving the lie to her protestations.

"You were stupid to be going out there in the first place, but you're doubly stupid to be going back out again! I told you that you weren't allowed to keep doing this. I told you, but you _never_ listen." He shook her roughly by her arm, "And then you go out and you get hurt again! You're a girl, Devla, not a man. You're place isn't out there, but at home. Don't you understand?" he sneered as he gave her arm a twist.

Tears were welling up unbidden in her eyes even as they began to flash in anger, "Brannon, stop. You're drunk, hurting me, and you're going to wake up all of Solace. You don't have any right to say what I can or cannot do. I can do what I want, and what I want right now is for you to let me go!" She had begun to shout angrily despite herself.

Before Brannon could decide whether or not to comply, a voice rang out, "Let Devla go." The statement came from Pollux who had been woken by the commotion. He approached Brannon, looking exceptionally pissed.

"And who the hell do you think you are to have any say over her?" Brannon growled, turning towards him and yanking Devla along as well. "You're no one, that's what you are. Do you really think she wants to marry you?" he asked, laughing derisively at Pollux. "You're just some stupid oaf." He gave Devla's arm another painful twist and then pushed her roughly to the side. He stepped up to Pollux, sneering. "C'mon, you think you're better than me, huh? I'll show you who's the real man here," he boasted as he took a drunken swing at Pollux.

A fire blossomed in Pollux' eyes. He knocked Brannon to the ground with ease, straddled his chest, and then slammed a fist into his face. Pollux was pulling back his arm to punch again when Davvel yelled, "What the hell is going on here?" Pollux lowered his fist slowly, controlling his rage, and then stood ruefully, casting his eyes to the ground to avoid Davvel's gaze.

Devla's father took in the scene: Pollux looking both angry and guilty; Brannon pulling himself up and spitting blood; Devla holding her bleeding arm. "You're Brannon, right?" His eyes narrowed coldly, "The innkeep's ward, I know you. Did you hurt my daughter?"

Devla twitched uncomfortably, "No, Dad. That's not… Look, nothing's going on, okay?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Brannon held up his hands while blood trickled out of his nose. "She hurt herself when fucking around in the woods again. I told her not to go out there anymore. I didn't touch her!"

Davvel's lips drew into a thin line. "Brannon, get yourself home. Pollux, you too. Devla, stay here a moment."

Brannon grinned triumphantly, and wiped at his nose. He called after Pollux as he started to climb back up to the house, "Maybe you two _do_ deserve each other. A merry couple of idiots." He spat to the side, "She's broken goods anyways, have you _seen_ that scar? I bet seeing the whole thing would make someone puke."

Davvel reached Brannon in a single stride, grabbed the front of his shirt, and growled in his face, "Leave. Now. And if I ever see you around Devla again I will personally kick your ass." Releasing him, Brannon dropped back to the ground. The boy yelped and then scrambled quickly away.

Satisfied that the boy was gone, he rounded on Devla who was slowly inching towards home. "Devla." She stopped contritely at his voice. "Was he telling the truth? Have you been going back out into the woods?" his voice shook with anger, anguish, and disbelief as he read the truth in her face. "Really? After everything that happened?"

She found her own fire deep inside, squared back her shoulders, and glared at her father. "Yes, damn it, _yes_. I am not some weak little girl that has to constantly be coddled, father. I can take care of myself. I enjoy hunting; I'm good at it. I am not going to let some stupid little accident scare me into a life of meek womanhood."

"You can take care of yourself, huh? A '_little_' accident? By the stars, Devla, you nearly died. Died." He threw up his hands in frustration. "You are so much like your mother: just as stubborn, always wanting to do everything her own way, always needing to wander. Devla," the anger ran out of him and his voice broke as he lightly grasped her shoulders, his pleading eyes meeting hers, "you can't do this to me again."

She knocked away his hands, "Oh, really, am I just like mom?" she raised her brows in mock surprise. "Well, this is news to me as you _never talk about her_. If I had died, would you have never spoke of me again as well? Not as if that would be all that different for you, as you never talk anyways. She's gone, okay dad? Move on already!" she hissed angrily. "Don't go holding your regrets over me for the rest of my life. It's not my fault. I am going to do what I want, live how I like, and you are just going to have to deal with it!" She turned on her heel and stormed towards the house before he could formulate a reply. He stood there, staring after her, looking haunted.

During the next couple of weeks the tension at home was so thick it was nearly palpable. They were angry at each other and at themselves but didn't know how to fix it, and so they fell back to the method that had always worked before: time. It perhaps wasn't the best way to deal with things, but it was the easiest way. It even seemed to work. Eventually things got better. Devla and her father slowly apologized to each other with their eyes, if not in outright words. Davvel never talked about Devla's resumed trips into the woods, and Devla never mentioned her mother. Things regained a sense of normalcy.

It was finally all right to openly take to the woods again. However, Devla never quite got over her distrust of Forden's tactical skills. She was friendly enough to him, and would still accompany him on treks sometimes, but she held a bit of herself back now. The way he always acted like he knew what was best, just because he was older and more experienced, irritated her. That old-age wisdom hadn't kept her from getting gored, had it? A small piece of her still blamed herself, however, for not being good enough or quick enough. Conflicted, she felt like not only had he let her down, but she had let him down as well. She felt like she had to go extra far to prove her skill and worth to him now. Her favorite way to do this was to try to best him at everything they did. Forden, surprisingly, did not seem to completely notice the change in their relationship. Sure, he could tell she was more moody and withdrawn, was more apt to disregard his advice, but he chalked that largely up to her being a teenager. He was not aware of her deepening lack of trust in him, nor her increasing need for him to acknowledge her value.

Not long after the fight, it became public knowledge that Brannon had knocked up her friend Lizzy, and the two had been married off to avoid scandal. By the end of that summer, Devla had virtually alienated herself from everyone in Solace. On the surface she still interacted with her remaining friends and Forden, but nothing seemed to quite reach her inside. She felt disconnected from the world and, since she knew of no way to fix it, she ignored it. It got slowly worse.

As said at the beginning, she'd been having a rough time as of late. It was not fair, she thought, hadn't she had enough things explode in her face for one lifetime? Even so, she was sixteen, and despite it all she was content, naive, and innocent; in other words, she was still so very young.

But youth doesn't last forever, and one cannot eternally keep their eyes closed to the true cruelty that is life. Devla had more freedom than most girls her age, thankfully her father was not pressing for the wedding quite yet, and her work in the woods gave her a lot of autonomy. She lingered in that ambiguous zone between being a child and an adult, and when alone in the woods she was nearly happy. She did not know, however, that although fate might be willing to be deferred for a while, it can never be endlessly avoided, and the longer one denies the truth, the more bitter the fall.

Devla thought she was lucky. She was unaware that the world was about to shatter.

Thus ends "Part One: The Beginning" of Devla's Story, telling of her childhood and early griefs. Her story continues in "Part Two: The World's Shadow", in which Devla and her friends learn that their world is not as they had thought it.


End file.
